Konstant Be

i"m running away / from these poems yet amain / they just might find me./ — Konstant Be

i could have been born anywhere trapped to this innocence pushing back the future trying hold off the day i lose myself and have to spend the rest finding me again i could have been born anywhere its all the same

when we get older muscles turn to money clinched fists only have power if there are dollars crumpled inside them it doesn't matter who can deliver a knockout blow but who has more money to throw right and wrong is decide in bills and notes you're only as free as your ability to afford the legal fee dreams only come true if they're on the college itinerary even passions have a price

confession #32 i cry a bit every time i step on a snail after the rain #67 i dream in movies 56 dolls creep me out 30 chinchillas are my ideal pet 88 i love pink donuts 77 i used to sell drugs 79 i blame myself for what the coke did to him 49 sometimes im psychic 66 i had wear foot braces like forest gump as a baby 107 i've only been in one romantic relationship 44 i really don't like chocolaty things 45 chocolate and mint don't go together 61 sometimes i put marshmallows on pizza 24 i cut myself once 33 there are scars i cant remember 11 im scared of failing 18 im scared of failing 95 im terrified of failing 96 im afraid to succeed 3 a ninja is the only thing I dream of being 8 i can only snap my fingers on my left hand

how i can tell him to just grow up be strong ignore the pain how i am supposed tell him that a kevlar vest will protect his chest from the sticks and stones but also weigh him down (let's hope he never tries to walk on water) how do i explain to him that we're not as advanced as we think we are that despite the high tech weaponry we're still just throwing stones sheltering hearts of glass triceps tattooed in sins how do i find the words to convey that his childhood is just dress rehearsal for a sitcom society where everyone is still laughing but ain't shit funny and yet how do i tell him that his sensitivity... suffering sling and arrow shirt practically ripped open to reveal a capital S for his soul is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen how do i tell him to just toughen up kid <|3

if only I could breathe bullshit then just maybe i could be with you <|3

i sift through the discarded king of the trash heap duke of the dump i find use in the useless living on the possessions of the dead and the decisive building citadels of Styrofoam and galvanized steel i walk through my kingdom surveying the echos of a society made solid homages to the starbucks armies xerox forests and lysol lifestyles the ill-designed digital dorian gray paintings gossamer disks of their images frozen in time thin plastic that will out last thickened bone beauty products out live beauty queens it seems in their quest for fountains they've created mountains of single-serving youth instant five-hour gratification that which to them was momentary will survive centuries here here is their eternity finally achieved if only to be remember forever through the things that lasted them seconds leaving this junkyard priest privy to a million memories and confessions now forgotten and lingering like the light of dormant stars <|3

there are shards of the sun underneath my skin my future is skin-deep lovers tell me i give off furnace heat my body is busy burning the past away like sins of the soul still i am composed trying to hold in a personal hell fingers as thick as bars confined to solitary stares locking my lips swallowing my words like keys the key word is: trying <|3